Meredith's knuckles hurt from clutching the wheelchair's arm-rest. She let go just long enough to snap her fingers at Jo.

"Going back will take longer. I promise you're gonna like this."

The panic that swooped down on her whenever she passed through the door of her room—whether she was taken or awkwardly shoved the wheelchair out herself; the whole "agency" thing had occurred to her—was currently the most infuriating part of her recovery. It didn't make sense, and it wasn't fair. This hospital was Meredith's territory. There were days where being there made the middle eighteen years of her life feel like a dream—sometimes a nightmare.

Why did being attacked in the pit make her break out in sweat in the hall of the fourth floor? There were no shadows ahead. The corridors were eight feet wide, with Jo pushing her down the center, she couldn't be grabbed from a doorway. If anything, the heavily-trafficked surgical floor was the safest, and she'd been injured there in the past without missing a beat. One week off to recover from being concussed by a bomb and drenched in the pink mist of a man who'd saved her life. She'd watched a gunman stalk these halls for her husband. This time she'd been in a room. She'd spent half of it lying on a gurney.

The part everyone called "the attack" had been terrifying. Hundreds of live-saving instruments had been just out of her reach, and he'd guaranteed she couldn't get any of the leverage she'd been taught to use to get out of a hold. It'd felt like she'd never truly understood helplessness; had been empowered by nature of being able to scream, cry, move. The sound of her ribs cracking might never leave her head. She'd been throttled, shaken, and thrown to the floor. She'd crumpled like an abandoned bandage wrapper. While she'd been being pummeled, she could tell where the next blow would land. She couldn't escape, but she could try. She'd known who had her in his grip, but years had erased the boy she'd known from his features. There'd been hope that someone familiar would come in and make it stop at any moment. Hoped for Alex, Richard, and as her reason depleted, Derek.

She'd come to surrounded by friends. There'd been no question that they wanted to help her. Every expression had held an emotion on the other side of the spectrum from the hatred that'd increased with every blow. They hadn't wanted to torture her, but the reassuring touches didn't confuse her any less than the firm ones. If she'd been able to hear, their overlapping voices might be haunting her along with the ones from her past. She hoped she'd never find out.

All she'd understood at the time was that it would stop when her mind could no longer tolerate the pain. It would happen now. Now. It couldn't get worse than the x-rays. Worse than the chest tube. Worse than her leg. Worse than her arm. Hurt to—she couldn't—hurt to breathe. Owen, Maggie, Alex, Edwards, Jackson, Richard, Alex, Jackson, Jackson, Jack—Hurting her had affected him, Richard said. She'd seen it affect all of them. Seen Alex cry. Felt Maggie's blade give her air. Jackson was the one who had her gratitude. He'd made it stop.

She couldn't tell any of them any of that. Endurance was what she was known for, what they all said would "get her through," get her "back on her feet." Everyone caring for her expected her body to behave like any patient's body. That she'd been unable to escape her attacker was justifiable. Alex would always believe he'd done worse. Maggie didn't have many—or high—expectations for her. Knowing that she'd wished her pain tolerance was lower; that she could be weaker, would make all of them look at her differently. Derek believed he could be the exception. That he could know the worst of her. If losing him was a risk anyway, couldn't she let him?

Her reputation might be at risk, regardless. Whatever was making her skin crawl as Jo pushed her wasn't fading. She was sure everyone they passed could tell that it felt like Maggie had pulled her ribs together too closely, and there was no good reason for it. In hindsight, she hadn't minded being confined to her room, with a cop to ensure that no one unexpected could come in and see her losing it.

"Dr. Shepherd is meeting us there with B.B.," Jo said.

She held up the board that had WHERE? written on it. Jo pretended not to see. Meredith growled at her. UR BOSS.

"Does it help that I'm not concerned? You won't want me gone for doing this."

WATCH ME.

BRAT.

It did help that Derek would be wherever they were going. She hadn't seen him yet that morning, and every successful baby visit made her will the time to pass faster.

He wanted to start bringing Zola soon. It wasn't fair to her like this. Meredith knew that. She also knew that she was two in her first memory, and Derek was three in his.

They turned a corner. One benefit of having known w this hospital's layout years before she'd had access to the blueprints was that a resident couldn't totally shock her.

PATIENT REC ROOM

BINGO DAY?

"I'd take you to that if I wanted to lose my job."

Meredith smirked. The room itself belonged to Grey+Sloan. At Seattle Grace, it'd been a conference room and a storage closet. She'd been the one to suggest the change, but she'd gotten it from Lexie reading, and therefore talking about, patient morale.

"It makes sense," her sister had said. "We have a ton of activities for kids, but adults are more likely to be left on their own for hours. Private rooms are far better than wards or roommates, but people need socialization. If they're ambulatory, we're demanding they pace the hallways. Why not give them somewhere to go?"

It'd seemed like a good point to Meredith. So had the courtyard, but if Derek didn't stop suggesting they go out there, she'd move to brick it over at the next board meeting and wouldn't shut up until it happened. They'd have to teleconference her in, but she'd do it. (Okay, maybe not. Patients who weren't sudden-onset agoraphobics liked it, or something.)

She checked her watch as they entered the room. No pajamas or sweatpants had made her feel less naked than putting it on, even if she had to wear it on the wrong wrist. Derek hadn't missed the 6:45am ferry on a weekday day yet, and that it wouldn't last to her discharge was a bet she'd happily lose.

"Oh, Dr. Grey, I'm so glad you you're here! Ringo, wait." The woman standing on the far side of the room jerked her hand, and the black lab next to her heeled.

Shock was an annoying emotion to experience; there weren't many other times Meredith's jaw muscles moved instinctively. The date was on the board in her room. That it was the first Thursday of the month hadn't occurred to her.

Dog Day.

"Closer?" Jo asked.

Meredith nodded. She'd could ignore the amusement in the resident's voice, this time. She held her hand out to Ringo. Linda motioned for him to go forward. He snuffled over. His cold nose had barely touched her hand before his head jerked up, and then he nuzzled against her right knee. He knew her.

She shouldn't be surprised; she'd known him for years now. Ringo was one of four therapy dogs who visited the hospital once a month. Thunder was across the room, and he'd rotate down to psych later. Knowles started in the playroom, Luxe spent the morning in the cancer floor's rec room, and then their handlers would take them around to non-ambulatory patients—She would've argued that she qualified. She could maybe forgive Jo for not asking—To him, her smell would've always been mixed with hospital smell. She felt so different though. It was nice to have someone confirm her body hadn't been changed entirely by the additional stress hormones—were there more? Or could she just not manage them? Could Wyatt ask someone in neuropsych? It didn't matter that she couldn't tell him what a good boy he was verbally. Pats were enough of a reward for him, and when she put her hand on her right leg, he happily rewarded her; putting his paws up on the arm of the wheelchair, licking straight across the still-visible bruises on that side of her face.

"A woof-woof!"

Meredith smiled at her baby's voice, scritching behind Ringo's ears and waiting to hear Derek confirm that, yes, buddy, it was, in fact, a woof-woof.

"Yeah, Bay-Bay it's a doggie."

Meredith froze, and Ringo pawed at her arm, like he was saying, breathe, friend. She patted him, and it felt like the only instinct she'd had in weeks that was correct. Then, she signaled for him to get down and looked up at Jo. The resident turned her chair, and then stepped to the side, taking Bailey from Derek.

"Mommy!" Zola squealed. Derek murmured something Meredith couldn't hear, but Zola nodded emphatically, and she assumed it was something along the lines of careful, remember? Then, he leaned forward, and Zola's arms latched around Meredith's neck.

She inhaled, empathizing with Ringo more than she had seconds earlier. The mix of Zola's shampoo, the moisturizer they'd used since she was a baby, the mint of her toothpaste—All of it was the same as it'd been twenty-three days ago.

When Meredith let go, Derek set Zola down and she withdrew slightly against his leg, looking her over thoughtfully. Then, she looked up at Derek. He smiled at her encouragingly, but Meredith could read the apprehension in the way he kept his hand on her shoulder.

"Momma can do yes and no, right?"

"Yup. And some signs. We've been practicing those, remember?"

"Yeah, uh-huh, but what I gotta ask is a for-mission. Um..." Zola turned to Meredith, her thin eyebrows drawn together, seriously. "Momma? Can I pet the doggie?"

Meredith nodded, and Zola zipped over to where Jo was crouching with Bailey. One look got Derek to turn her chair, and then he held a hand down to her. She took it, and for a few minutes it didn't matter that she was in this room as a patient if that meant she got to watch her kids be delighted by a very patient dog.

"Is this a board meeting or what?' Callie asked, leaning against the doorway of the conference room.

Derek crossed his arms. "If I said 'what,' would you leave?"

She shrugged. "It'd be kind of obnoxious, and you're not my boss."

"Then, it's a board meeting."

"Look who's got jokes." She rolled out the chair at the end of the conference table. "Has Arizona been to see Mer?"

"I don't think so. Why?"

"She asked me about her schedule. I figured…well, I've been schooling you on all the things I fucked up, and you two are already miles ahead of us."

"Excuse me?"

"You've heard the story of me manhandling her into the shower, right? That'd be worse for Mer, but you're nowhere near doing it. She doesn't blame you for this, you talk, you talk about what th—ey, Avery!" Her overly-bright smile reminded him of the exaggerated one Meredith would likely mimic behind her back for the rest of eternity. He looked down, hoping to hide his wince.

It wasn't a nice thought to hope she might have a point; after how she and Robbins had fallen apart. He'd be more reassured if Meredith wasn't scrutinizing him like he might pull the sheet out from under her at least once a day.

He'd called their lawyer to discuss ending his contract. Xavier had sworn at him, but promised to be in touch. He'd also given him a referral to a criminal attorney.

"Wait." Avery pointed a pen at Maggie, who'd come in closely followed by Owen. "This isn't a board meeting?"

If Derek hadn't been standing he would've put his head in his hands. He'd run more meetings at the NIH than he had in any position other than Chief of Surgery, and this was proving to be a great reminder of the worst elements of his "dream jobs."

"It's a meeting with members of the board," Owen offered.

"Like most meetings around here," Callie added.

"It's not a board meeting," Derek asserted. "It has nothing to do with the hospital. It's about Meredith."

"You want a review?" Owen asked.

"I'm sure I'll get one. I want to take her home." The volume of everyone's saying "are you insane?" at once was one of several reasons he'd decided not to do this anywhere near her room. "Not today! Don't page psych on me. I want to aim for next week, assuming she's weight-bearing."

As he'd expected, everyone around the table gave simultaneous objections, interrupting and speaking over one another as though they were arguing amongst themselves, not agreeing with each other. He let them go. They wouldn't listen until they'd presented every objection he'd already considered, and then he could go over his bulleted list of solutions.

Their reasoning was sound. In another patient's case, he've might been swayed. She was fragile. Not ambulatory enough. Too injured to rely on crushed pain control that might get delivered unevenly; in need of IV nutrition. Low stamina, couldn't put strain on her jaw.

"Also, I know yesterday was a win, but—" Callie shot him an apologetic look. "—she'd have to leave her room, and there's only one Dog Day a month."

"I'd pegged her for a cat person," Maggie mused.

Owen rotated his chair in her direction. "If I hadn't seen her with that pack before, I'd be with you."

"Why?" Callie asked. "Can't be because Yang has the soul of a cat; Karev's a Retriever made human."

"Don't you mean a Pit?" Jackson muttered.

"Oh, that's good," she acknowledged.

Had she met Doc? He'd been moved into the trailer by the time she and O'Malley were a thing. Karev had been why they'd gone to the pound in the first place—Had Meredith realized that that made Karev responsible for their first dog and their first child?—He wasn't sure even Richard and Miranda had known about Doc. Sometimes, he thought he knew exactly how his big, nosy family had affected him, and then something new occurred to him.

"Going back to the point," Owen said. "The rec room is a lot closer than Bainbridge."

"I don't think distance is the issue." Derek said, He'd never resort to the betrayal of reading from Meredith's last entry in the journal, but in it she'd confirmed a theory much sooner than he'd expected.

"It's victim-blaming bullshit to think it was bound to happen to me. To catalog all the times I took stupid risks, or just got tired of taking the precautions. To think I need to stop whining to myself, because he didn't get anywhere, and there were others who got closer. Situations I'd think of diferently, now. Times I had to reinforce a 'no,' or got groped without warning. (Unclench your fists.) I didn't let people get away with those things, even if I tolerated more than I would now. I got away, and any fear of not being able to fight was momentary—Ego, maybe, or maybe I didn't care—But most of all, I was so lucky. Except for once or twice, those incidents were at bars and clubs, and I didn't exactly avoid second locations I've always known it could be anywhere. Before I knew what rape was, I spent my free time in a hospital where women came in from the street (and their houses, their workplaces, their dates' houses.) You're more aware than most men, and I guarantee you don't know how often I'm on-guard. I'm so pissed that he found the one place where I never bother bothered."

"For most of her life she's been safe here," he said. "Here, at this hospital. It took work for her to get there again after the shooting, but she did. This is different. She was doing her job; he came out of nowhere, bringing baggage she thought she'd gotten rid of, and then after he let her go..." Derek stopped himself. Going into that here wouldn't help. "She hasn't gotten away. She needs a break from the lights, and the machines, and the clocks that are all you can hear in a quiet room. I'm concerned that the longer she's here, the harder it will be for her to conceptualize the hospital as a good place where some bad things have happened—specifically this thing."

He also thought being in her own space might help her start reclaiming more of her body, but if she wasn't ready to venture into that, he wasn't going to do it here. He also wasn't going to be explicit about how their marriage could benefit from the return to routine. She needed to see that nothing was dependent on this complication. It would still be a factor, a significant one, but he believed that the closer to normal he could get things, the less apprehension she'd have that they'd be returning to a house full of the shadows of last year.

Maggie and Callie were visibly considering what he said. Avery's expression didn't give much away in general. Owen bad his pen held in the fingers of both hands and was turning it at ninety degree angles. Derek had no idea what that meant in terms of his thoughts until he said, "We might need her to sign a waiver."

"He's not going to just sign him out AMA," Maggie said. "Right?"

"No, I-"

"Regardless. This isn't an option we'd consider for many other patients, and if something were to happen, the hospital would be liable."

"Nothing would—"

"You're outside with the baby; Zola screams from her room. Dr. Hardhead goes for the crutch, because she can barely use the wheelchair, goes down and can't catch herself, bangs her chin," Callie rattled off. "You can't say it won't happen; a less intense version went down with Arizona, who was a lot more cautious—in general—and only had one injured limb."

"She does seem to have kind of bad luck," Maggie tentatively observed. Even Avery joined in the laughter around the table.

Derek held a hand out to Maggie who looked more like a shut down little sister than he'd ever seen her. "We're not laughing at you, Maggie."

"We're laughing, because nothing truer has ever been said," Callie added.

"Even as a kid," Avery put in. "I knew nothing about the big stuff." He raised his eyes to Derek. "Mom says her involvement in Schraeder was very if-you-know-you-know, but, uh… "Avery caught the pen he was spinning. "Just what I witnessed: in grade school, she knocked over a flower pot taller than her in the lobby at a Harper Avery ceremony. A cater-waiter at Dana Faber event tripped over an old donor's walker and dumped fish sauce over Meredith's dress. At the last banquet we both attended, before I left for Andover, she came in halfway through, because a snowstorm started while she was on a bus five blocks away. Uncanny."

"It'd only get weirder," Callie confirmed.

"May not be fair to factor that in," Owen acknowledged. "Beyond the legal padding. What's your plan, Shepherd?"

Derek flipped through open documents on his tablet to find the list he'd made. She'd have more room to practice with the knee brace in their open floor plan, and if the stairs were too much, they could easily convert his study to a guest room—Not that he thought she'd let him. Being close, but not close enough, to her usual life was part of what was making this harder—He'd be able to administer medications, and the home-health agency he'd worked with on the island was good; she'd have all the out-patient therapies she needed. "And...look, Friday is Valentine's Day."

"We're not releasing her for you to—" He narrowed his eyes at Callie, who held her hand sup. "I'm just saying!"

Was it strange that he almost wished his sister, or one of her other friends was here to say, "what you think they haven't,"or something else inappropriate? They hadn't, but what Maggie had said about not believing in their story bothered him. When things were good, sex wasone thread of their relationship; being interrupted, called in, put on pause—hadn't been more than an inconvenience. The more they shut out the world, the more one or both of them feared reality was threatening to tear them apart.

"Amelia will have a thousand days of sobriety," he said. "I thought we could do something casual this weekend. Nothing that'd be too much for Meredith. Just…." He hunched over the chair at his end of the table. "It's not only the attack that's affecting how she's seeing this place. How she's seeing anyone who treated her that day."

"What do you mean?" Maggie asked.

Avery rolled his eyes. "He means you cut her open and put a tube in her chest."

"Could be worse. You could look like her attacker and have strangled her best friend."

Derek was glad he wasn't the only one to gape at Owen. "You've been spending too much time with my sister," he said. "And," he added, coming to his senses. "You don't really resemble...well... She barely…she says she barely remembers seeing you that day."

"She was out of it," Callie acknowledged. "Have you even been by since?"

"To trigger her, purposefully? I have not."

"Do we think she has PTSD?" Avery asked.

"Psych won't even diagnose Acute Stress Disorder until she's further out. With her history, it'd be unexpected, but the symptoms she's displaying—"

"Won't mean anything until she has a chance to have a life that they're affecting," Derek interrupted. "She needs to see you all as her friends, not her doctors. Owen, if you keep avoiding her, she's only going to be more self-consciousness over the whole thing."

"I'd be one of the first to say she doesn't do self-consciousness," Callie said. "But I was there for that. You'd have to have seen her face when Karev came in. I'm not saying I'm on board with this plan, but another Meredith thing is that she'd hate having us sit around discussing her psych issues. Everything we've—" She gestured to everyone around the table. "—seen is her holding it together. He—" She pointed to Derek "—might be a better judge of her vulnerabilities."

"Might?" Owen repeated.

She shrugged. "I drank with her last year. Chances are good,; if he's home. If you're home," she added to Derek.

All four of them turned to him. "I, uh….That's part of the plan...or….I was already going to be here for...a while, but once I figure out the technicalities...yeah I'm staying."

"Okay." Callie uncapped her pen. "First of all, there's no way I'm letting her through the door until she's in a knee brace. The goal is Monday, but I haven't seen the latest films. What else?"

They went around the table, outlining discharge instructions that rivaled some treatment plans he'd made for brain surgeries. They got to Maggie last. "Have you talked to Meredith about this?"

"No," he admitted. "I didn't want to get her hopes up."

"Smart. If she's in, I don't have much to add, medically. If she wants to stay here, though, I'll back her."

"I'm not going to makeher...I don't just want her home. I mean, I do, of course I do—"

"It's not like she'll be taking over with the kids," Avery cut in. "And if he could convince Grey to go anywhere she didn't want to be, they'd all be across the country." He shoved away from the table and was out the door.

A moment later as the others began filing out. Callie came over to the head of the table, narrowing her eyes at him. "After Mer's dad had the liver transplant, I was the one Miranda unloaded on. It surprised me, actually, because she said she appreciated patients who hadn't been cleared for 'certain activities' asking about loopholes, but it hit different when it meant being looped into your business, yet again."

"Ah." Derek rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. "Well, she was the first one who—"

"Caught you? Why do you think I was the one she sought out? I know so much of your business. I've been drinking buddies with both your wives and your bro, and it's all a little awkward, because I think I talk to your mom more than you do."

"My kids call her every Sunday too!"

"I know. Before that was Arizona's day, they did it from my house."

"Well…I went up there last month."

"Because you missed Thanksgiving. For someone married to Grey, you're surprisingly bad at deflecting All I'm saying is that what happens in the woods can stay in the woods, but if it sets that leg back, you're going to have me to answer to."

"I, uh...why just the leg?"

"Because, if you're to blame for her arm not healing right, she'll be the one taking a leaf out of Catherine Fox's book."

"Right. Got it."

"Have you told her you're staying?"

"Tried. I...I thought once she could hear I'd know she was hearing me. That's not how it's going."

Callie's expression went from stern to sympathetic, and he wondered if she'd plotted the first half of conversation to get him to open up in the second.. "Keep trying. What's up, Pierce?" she added to Maggie, who was also hanging back.

Maggie blinked. "Um. This may not be my business, but... strangled?"

"Oh." Callie eyed Derek, and stuck her hands in the pockets of her lab-coat. "That was while you were in the woods?"

"Uh, partially? He let me do the MRI the night I proposed to Mer."

"Like…straight off the elevator?"

"More or less."

"Huh." Callie grinned. "I'm impressed."

"We're not—"

"Six months!" They both turned to Maggie. "I have been here six months. Sometimes, it feels like I've got most of the puzzle put together. And then, all of a sudden, no one is speaking English."

Callie folded her lips in, making the beauty mark on her cheek pop. "Come on," she said, shrugging toward the door. "Come get a coffee with me, and I'll run you through…." She raised an eyebrow at Derek. "What, Harris to the bus?"

"You brought up the liver transplant."

"I was fired at the time."

Maggie made a disgruntled noise, and Derek smiled at her. "You'll catch up, eventually." She sighed, but looked bolstered. Good to know his pokerface was still moderately. effective.